The Raven's Wing
by Max Morgan
Summary: Semi-Canonical bridge between Diablo 1 and 2. Aidan, Moreina, and Jazreth did not know what to expect when they ventured into the depths of Tristram cathedral, but what they find there will likely never leave them.


With a heavy boot to the door, it burst from its hinges, splintering into pieces as it collided with the floor. Aidan stepped into the cold stone room, ducking his head as he passed under the rotting wooden door frame. Moreina and Jazreth were swift to follow him in. Jazreth placed a hand upon his arm, but Aidan shook him off, his gaze fixed to the alter the far end of the otherwise-empty room.

Blood poured over the edges, pooling in thick, dark puddles at the base, and laying atop the alter, painted in his own blood was the body of a young child.

"What have you done to my brother?" he snarled, eyes flicking up to where he could just about make out the shape of the Archbishop, lurking in the shadows, as if the light would burn him.

"No longer is he your brother," the Archbishop Lazarus said, deadpan. He moved to step into the light, but an arrow pierced his shoulder.

"You're not moving until you tell us," Moreina growled, stepping forward in front of Aidan, another arrow nocked and ready embed itself in Lazarus.

Aiden stepped beside her, his hand groping the pommel of the sword at his side. Not his sword, though. His sword had shattered some days ago in battle. This sword, he had found, and it was not the same. This god-forsaken labyrinth had claimed far more from him than he would ever willingly have given, and all in the name of finding his brother, Albrecht. Moreina glanced at him briefly through the corner of her eye, before resuming her scrutiny of Lazarus.

She stepped forwards, feet sweeping the floor for any traps as she edged towards the maddened Archbishop.

"Why did you do it?" Aidan asked. "Why did you do any of this?"

"Aidan," Jazreth murmured beneath his breath in warning, but Aidan lifted his hand to silence the sorcerer.

"I need answers," he grunted, following in Moreina's footsteps. "You poisoned my father's mind. You tore our kingdom down to ruins. Eight people. That's how many are left in this town, this once-great town. Eight. You sent our men to die, and while they were gone you broke my father," he growled, voice breaking. "I had to put my father down with my own sword – after killing the monstrosity you called the Butcher, the foul creature you led my people to die by the sword of."

"A terrible shame," Lazarus said, his head bowed in apparent mourning. "I really though Leoric would be strong enough... Alas, he was not."

"Strong enough for what?" Moreina asked, eyes narrowing, her fingers itching to release the arrow held firmly in place.

"Abandon your foolish quest," he said. "All that awaits you is the wrath of my master."

"Who is your master?" she asked, inhaling sharply as she turned her head watch Aidan's expression crumble.

"You are too late to save the child. Now... you'll join him.. _in hell_!"

Lazarus moved his hand upwards in a sharp motion, and Moreina was sent colliding into the wall, falling into a slump at the bottom.

Aidan looked to Jazreth and nodded to Moreina, before drawing his sword and mounting his shield upon his arm. His eyes widening in horror, he charged the Archbishop, bringing his sword down with a roar that echoed around the deadened stone.

Lazarus brought up his staff in time to deflect the blow, and Aidan stumbled backwards, giving the Archbishop enough time to put distance between them both.

Jazreth skidded to a halt as he reached Moreina, but she put her hand up to stop him, and pulled herself to her feet. Putting her hand on the back of her head, she hissed in pain, and rotated her shoulder.

"I'll be fine, it's Aidan we need to worry about."

Jazreth nodded and turned to see Aidan closing in on Lazarus once more. Grabbing his staff from where it hung over his shoulder, he began to charge a fire spell in his hand.

Lazarus glanced up over Aidan's shoulder as he deflected blow after blow. As his eyes locked with Jazreth's, he flicked his wrist and the stones in the walls began to shift, something dark and almost organic growing across them, throbbing as if it had a heartbeat.

"Get away from the wall!" Moreina growled, stepping forward and dragging Jazreth with her. As she turned back to face Lazarus, he was already weaving another spell, and creatures began to materialise out of the darkness.

Demonic forms of women twisted beyond any recognisable beauty, and yet the way their bodies swayed from side to side was captivating. Wings unfurled from their backs, filling the room with leathery screens that blocked the view of Aidan and Lazarus. Their gazes turned to Aidan, and Moreina elbowed Jazreth, before nocking another arrow. Loosing it, it hit true, piercing the heart of one of the demons. She dropped to the ground, blood pooling around her.

Moreina had no time to catch her breath, before more demons started appearing from the air. "Aidan, we'll hold them... _kill him_!" she roared, her voice barely audible over the sound of metal clanging together as Aidan's sword struck Lazarus' staff.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" he growled back.

"Well try harder!" she snapped as she shot another arrow into another demon. Jazreth, circled around the demons, his spell nearly ready to release. At the sight of his spell, the twisted demons turned towards Jazreth, their long taloned fingers pulling back, ready to strike.

Moreina aimed, but missed as the claw came down with an unexpected speed. Jazreth brought his own staff up in time to block the attack, and Moreina's second arrow did a better. Downing the creature just in time, before it had better luck with its second strike.

"I'm ready!" Jazreth cried out, his hands trembling as he struggled to keep his spell under control. "Go! _Go_!"

Moreina broke into a sprint towards the far end of the room, vaulting the altar – though the sight of the boy's body, his insides strewn across the stone plinth, sickened her – and landed down the other side, with moments to spare as the room filled with searing flames and billows of black smoke.

Peering out, Moreina regarded the scorched bodies for a brief second before looking to Aidan, who dropped the white-hot shield he'd used to shelter himself from the flames. He shed his steel gauntlet, blackened and scorched and flapped his hand about in pain, before shaking his head in disapproval.

Without sparing his companions a single glance, he turned to Lazarus where the Archbishop lay in a heap on the floor, his skin dripping from his bones like wax.

"You can tell you master, in _hell_ , or wherever it is that he and his foul ilk ventured from... he is _not_ welcome in my kingdom, and with even my dying breath I will hunt him, and purge him as I am to purge you."

With that, his thrust his sword into Lazarus' brittle skull, and the man drew no further breaths.

"Aidan..." Jazreth whispered, between laboured breaths, and looked to Moreina who stood at the altar.

Aidan's shoulders hunched as he turned away from Lazarus, his eyes meeting Moreina's. She bowed her head and stepped away from the altar.

"I'm sorry," she bit out, walking to stand beside Jazreth.

Aidan nodded and took her place at the altar, circling around to the back of it as he placed his hand upon the partially-charred body of the child. However, his eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed, the tension dropping from his body as he fell to his knees.

"Thank the light. Praise the light."

" _What_?"

"It's not him," he sobbed, in relief. "It's not him..."

Jazreth released his breath, and slung the strap of his staff over his shoulder. "That _is_ good news..."

Moreina looked less certain. "Perhaps," she grunted.

"What is it?" Jazreth asked, brows knotting together. Aidan rose to his feet and headed back around the altar.

"You heard what Lazarus said," she said. "He said that your brother was no longer your brother. He said that we were too late."

Jazreth shook his head. "He was just trying to deceive us that this child was Prince Albrecht, so that we would stop looking. The Prince is still in this labyrinth somewhere. I have faith," he said, firmly, looking between Moreina and Aidan, whose eyes were trained upon one another.

Aidan didn't know what to think. He wasn't willing to give up hope, but he was prepared for the worst, for the worst is what he had faced so far in this dark place, where the light dared not shine.

"I'm sorry," Moreina bit out. "I didn't mean to dishearten you."

"No," Aidan said, and sighed. "You are right." He looked over his shoulder at the corpse of the child. "My brother is somewhere in these chambers, that much I believe. Perhaps he is unharmed, but..."

" _No one_ in these chambers is unharmed," Moreina said. "You need to be prepared. We have seen things no mortal should ever lay eyes upon. Even if your brother is alive, his mind, Aidan..."

"He will likely be broken, yes..."

Jazreth shook his head. "Let us not lose faith. We have made it through alive."  
"Are _we_ unscathed?" Moreina snapped, and Jazreth flinched. Shaking her head, she lowered her gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm just tense," she said, and turned her back to the two men.

"We all are." Jazreth sighed, and placed a hand upon her shoulder, but she shook it off.

"Some of our loved ones are in immediate danger," she grunted. "My rogues are _here_ , in Tristram. Somewhere up there," she said, gesturing to the ceiling. "Somewhere, hundreds of feet above the ground, my sisters lie in wait, their bows trained upon the doors of the cathedral. If we fail here, what horrors will leave through those doors? I dread think about it," she paused, slinging her bow over her shoulder, before hugging herself, "and Aidan... he has no one out there even waiting for him."

"I understand that, but this affects us all. We are all down here, and we need to support one another."

"What we really need is a rest." Aidan sighed. "Come on, let's find somewhere defensible to set up for the night," he said, but silence followed. "Well?" he asked, again, and finally Moreina sighed in defeat.

"Fine," she grunted. "I'll scout the area." Without another word, she headed for the door, and disappeared from view.

Jazreth shook his head. "She doesn't mean it," he said. "She's just tired."

"I know."

"Still, this is not a moment for mourning. We have done something good today. The Archbishop is dead – he will torment your subjects no longer – and this body is not of your brother, though I wish I could offer some closure to his parents," he said.

"If they're even still alive," Aidan grunted. "That's assuming his parents were not led to the Butcher with the other townsfolk," he said.

"I do wonder though..." Jazreth said, turning to the altar. "This is an altar of sorts, and the child is lay out in such a way that reminds me much of a sacrificial offering."

Aidan's features twisted in disgust, his face paling. He tore his gaze from the child's mutilated corpse. "A sacrifice?" he asked. "To whom?"

Jazreth nodded. "That is, indeed, the question," he said, then turned to look at his companion. "Still, we did a good thing. The Archbishop shall sacrifice no one else..." He paused, considering his words carefully. "Are you pleased?"

Aidan look to Jazreth from the corner of his eye. "Pleased..." He let the word ring throughout his mind, before shaking his head. "No. I am not pleased. My heart breaks for the man I once knew. My heart longs for the days when Lazarus knew kindness. I mourn the real Lazarus, and I loathe the corruption that took his mind, and I question whether the kindness was really there – or whether such a thing matters. He was kind... Do the reasons matter?"

"I don't know."

"And now we never shall... and I mourn that."

"I am sorry. I hope you find peace with yourself."

"My peace matters not. I will gladly suffer eternally if it means I can bring peace to all those wronged by the corruption that has claimed my kingdom."

Jazreth nodded. "These people would have been so lucky to have you as their king."

"I know not about that, but I will never have the chance to see. When all of this is done... I cannot remain here."

"I understand."

"Come. Let us dwell in this sorrowful place not a moment longer."


End file.
